Cold as Ice
by Ramzes
Summary: There was nothing that could move Antillus Raucus' heart. It was as cold as ice. Or so he thought. Missing scenes from the last two books.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Codex Alera belongs to the one and only Jim Butcher. I am only borrowing it for a while._

**Cold as Ice**

_**Chapter 1**_

"Will she be all right?"

Placida Aria didn't turn her head. He could feel the sympathetic pain flowing from her to the First Lady of Alera, the wonder and – yes, pride. As if Gaius Isana belonged to her and she took pride in her incredible success. But there was a certain streak of anger that he knew was addressed at him – Antillus Raucus. A shame ran through him – he fully deserved Aria's anger and contempt. He hadn't listened to her. Crows take him, he might have killed the best hope Alera had. The woman Septimus had loved. And Aria had told him. She had tried to show him how very wrong he was. He hadn't listened.

He might have made an enemy out of her. He knew it was dangerous – he had known her since his days at the Academy and he knew how lethal she could be. But he could not bring himself to care. _I've become as cold as ice_, he thought, distractedly. Indeed, he was. His way of life had made him so. The care for his people was the only emotion that could break the ice. Nothing else. Not even the hatred of an old friend like Aria.

"She'll be all right," Lady Placida said and he felt a knot in his chest untying. He could now breathe again, so he did. "We treated her wounds and they are mending. She just needs a rest."

Was it that simple? Raucus was not sure. The concern and pity coming from Aria were stronger now. Surely she would have not reason to feel this way if Gaius Isana was truly on her way on getting better.

Aria stood up and turned to him – and he gasped. The concern, the sympathetic pain, and now something else that he couldn't quite recognize – they were not for the First Lady at all. They were all for _him_. He immediately bristled. He didn't need anyone's pity. He didn't want it. He opened his mouth to bark a sharp remark but Aria beat him to it. "Stay put, dolt," she scolded and for a moment, it was just like before – before all that took place. Before Septimus died. Before he became a High Lord and ruined his life by marrying Kalarus Dorotea. Only for a moment, though.

Aria's face softened. "I do not pity you, Raucus," she said calmly.

"Crows take me, you don't," he grunted.

"No," she said. "How could I?"

She came nearer. It was already dark outside and the fire played strange shadows over her face. She suddenly looked as young as she had been at the Academy, then as old as she would be one day. Her eyes shone unusually bright. She was a tall woman but he still towered over her, so she tilted her head to look him in the eye. "You are the strongest man I've ever known, Antillus Raucus," she stated matter of-factly. "I cannot pity you for that. But I do care about the way life has been for you all these years."

He was so mesmerized by the way the firelight played across her face that he was late to notice why her eyes looked so bright: they were filled with tears that would fall any moment now.

He startled. The intensity of her feelings almost overwhelmed the ice that was his heart: sympathy, concern, grief, tenderness. And the strange emotion that he had not recognized before, for he had not felt it for so long: love. Not the love Aria held for her husband but enduring affection tried and proved in their years together at the Academy and after, their adventures, triumphs and failings, their pain at their friends' deaths. He had forgotten so much but now he remembered that once, he had felt the echoes of this love all the time, so he had stopped noticing them. Aria had loved him for his temper and his unswerving loyalty, for his talents and his weaknesses. And he had loved her back. He had loved all of them.

He slowly raised his hand to her face and traced her tears with his finger. Looked at them as if they were precious gems. Stepped back. "Thank you," he said, so softly that he was not sure she had heard him. No one else had wept for him before, not even his mother who had died before she could see him. "I feel honoured." Then he placed his finger to his lips, drinking the tears. His eyes did not leave hers and he felt the wave of relief that coursed through her. She smiled faintly. "I really think the First Lady will make a full recovery," she said.

"And I think I might have a visitor later this night," Raucus said and when Aria nodded, a new burden lifted from his heart. If the finest mind in Alera – and Aria was that, second maybe only to Sextus, crows take him – agreed with him, Sunset would come. He would. Maybe – just maybe – they still had a chance. His people. His sons. Aria's sons. Everyone.

Aria smiled at him. "I think you must be ready to meet him," she said. "Will you dine with me? Araris will be willing to stay with her and we might call a few watercrafters, just to be on the safe side."

Without waiting for his reply, she took him by the hand and headed for the door.

Raucus left his hand in hers like a small symbol of the rising hope, finally ensconced within a tiny ball of warmth.

* * *

**A. N. I am thinking of making this into a two chapter story. What do you think? Any ideas are accepted and will be considered.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: All belongs to Jim Butcher. I wouldn't mind keeping Lord Cyricus Phrygia, though, if only Jim Butcher would let me._

**Thank you, The Lady Unicorn, for reading and reviewing merely minutes after I posted this. It means a lot.**

_Cold as Ice_

**Chapter 2**

Pain. A crashing wave of overwhelming pain searing his arm and then his shoulder, traveling down his body. He tried to metalcraft it away and couldn't, and hazily thought that things were not looking good if Icemen could land strikes like that.

"Easy, Raucus. Easy," a familiar voice said, and with the effort of his life he somehow managed to lift his very heavy eyelids. Aria's face hovered over his, sunken and pale. Her lank hair fell over his face, hitting him painfully – painfully? Had he come to this, to be hurt by a wave of hair? He blinked and tried to focus her better. She looked as bad as he felt, so tired that he actually thought she'd fall across him and pass out.

"What… what happened?" His voice was hoarse, as if he had been screaming for hours. "We were fighting…"

Her lips moved briefly in what Raucus perceived to be the shade of a smile. "We won," she breathed. "The vord Queen is dead."

He released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Even this slight movement brought a new pain in his entire body, but mostly in his arm. He tried to shake his head to clear it. "Where…?"

"We are in a healing tent," she said. "You and Sandos are both in a bad shape, Raucus, but there weren't any healing tubs unoccupied. They had to use him for the men in imminent danger of dying. I'm sorry."

Very slightly, he moved his head to his right. Sandos lay not far away on a narrow cot, obviously unconscious. His stillness was frightening but he would be just fine, otherwise Aria wouldn't be this calm. Aria… It was good to know she was alive. She and Sandos both. Even while he was thinking that, his mind tried to tell him something that made him shiver with fear. He sighed. "My arm is killing me… my left arm," he murmured, and Aria's face blanched even more. "What?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

Aria took a deep breath and look at him steadily. "Listen to me, Raucus," she said calmly. "You do not have your left arm any more. The vord Queen took it off when she deceived us. She took us aback and no one was left unscathed."

His arm, his left arm… He stopped listening to her and instead, tried fratically to take it out from under the blanket, to see for himself that Aria was wrong but he was too weak even for that…

Aria took him by the shoulders very carefully to restrain him but even so, he winced with pain. She didn't notice.

"You're hurting him," a soft, eerily familiar voice said and Aria's grasp immediately relaxed. A dark female shade slowly came near. Raucus would have paid the woman no miind if not for the strange mix of emotions he felt from her – concern, pity, a hint of anger, a sad wonder and beneath them, something vaguely familiar, something that put him on alert.

"What?" Aria demanded sharply. "Is it normal for him to feel pain in a limb that is no longer there?"

The woman nodded and came yet nearer, her face still in the shadows. Raucus suddenly recognized her and anger, as hot as fire, as ferocious as an Iceman attack overtook him and he tried to rise. "Stay put," Dorotea said tiredly, softly, and he blinked.

This _had_ to be a fevered dream. She was a well-known traitor. She had disappeared years ago. She could not possibly be here. He was finally free of her. She was…

... she was here. Or was she? It was a stranger with her face, with her voice, obviously with her skills in watercrafting… with softness that Dorotea had never had. She took the blanket aside and he looked at his left. It was true, his arm was no longer there. For a moment, he closed his eyes but they snapped open as soon as he felt her hands on the stump. The crowbegotten woman was dangerous! There was no way he would let her near him while he was so weakened.

Great furies! It wasn't a dream, after all.

"Beware," Aria warned coldly, her eyes on the two of them. "If you do as much as scratch him, even the First Lord's protection won't save you."

"I will do nothing to him," Dorotea said, very tiredly. "I am sorry there is no healing tub left unoccupied. He'll just have to endure the pain."

He would have snorted, had he been able to. There was a genuine regret in her voice that made him sick. What had happened? Why was she here? And why was she talking as if… as if she cared?

"I'll kill you," he murmured, or tried to. "As soon as I get better."

She ignored the threat and checked on the stump. "There is no infection," she said and stepped back. "You need to keep it clean. But it'll hurt."

Something on her throat caught his eye. The glistening of a discipline collar. He glowered, confused. "What happened?"

He addressed the question at Aria. There was no way he would believe a word coming from his wife, crows take her – and keep her this time, hopefully. Because he would not kill her, of course. Not that he lacked a desire to do so. But he could never explain it to Crassus why he had killed the wretched woman. No matter how much she deserved to be put to death, she _was_ Crassus' mother… Why couldn't she have gone and got herself killed peacefully?...

Aria brought him water and supported his head while he drank. He almost immediately felt better. Then, she started to explain something about Canim and Dorotea being captured and Raucus strained to listen to her when the entrance of the tent shifted and in came…

"Septi…" Raucus started, with a shock that nearly sent him rising, but cut himself off immediately. The facial features were almost the same. But only almost. He shook his head, sure of his conclusion. "You are not Septimus."

"Of course I am not," the Princeps – the First Lord – snapped irritably. Without sparing a further look at Raucus, he turned to Dorotea, "You are needed at the healing tubs. Crassus…"

Raucus fell back against his pillow, overwhelmed by the horror that filled his wife. He did not need to look at her to know that her face had blanched even more. Without a word, she turned and headed out of the tent.

The First Lord sighed heavily. His eyes went from Raucus to Sandos and then Aria. "Has everyone been attended?" he asked. "Is everyone fine?"

She nodded wearily. "Don't worry, Your Highness," she said. "I'll take care of them."

Raucus almost snorted. If anything, Aria could use some care herself. She would pass out any minute now. She was in desperate need of sleep and a good meal. Not that she would not endure. Aria always did.

He rested his right hand on the blanket and slowly looked at the boy, the First Lord. "What's wrong with Crassus?" he asked and braced himself against the answer.

Gaius Octavian paused. "He has sustained many injuries," he said. "And today, he overexerted himself. He… he will face some serious problems, I'm afraid."

Antillus Raucus frowned. The regret in the First Lord's voice caught him unprepared. He knew Tavi of Calderon was Maximus' friend. He had never anticipated that he might be Crassus' friend, as well. To the best of his knowledge, Crassus had never had any friends.

He was aware that he was trying to postpone the answer, of course. Very cowardly of a man who had spent his entire life warding Icemen off. "How serious?" he asked and was delighted to hear the dispassionate tone of his voice.

Gaius Octavian did not mince his words. "His leg was badly crushed. He may never walk again. If he survives," he said and the words, albeit calm, were like an axe blow, like the pain still ripping Raucus' arm – his one time arm – apart. Aria had returned at Sandos' side and now looked at Raucus with sympathy and pity. She had known.

"How do you know?" Raucus barked and did not bother to address the boy respectfully. Septimus' heir or not, Octavian was still a pup and had much to learn to deserve the respect of his elders. "Last time I heard, you were no watercrafter to talk about."

The First Lord's face was calm and sad. He looked at the entrance. "It's not I who's saying this, it's her," he said and Raucus fell silent, for if Dorotea said this, it ought to be true. She would have fought like a lioness before admitting defeat on this. Great furies, never walking again might be just Crassus' most optimistic prognosis!

"Maximus?" he asked and Octavian smiled.

"I've seen his worse off," he said and the fist around Raucus' heart unclenched a little. He did not see the boy taking his leave. Maximus was fine and that was a good thing. He would go to see him as soon as he could rise. But Crassus never walking again? That was unthinkable! Yet, a few days ago losing his arm would have been unthinkable, too. At least it was only his left arm. Crassus, though… And the boy was so young, crows take it It couldn't be true.

Only, it could. Of course it could. They had seen the end of the world and lived to tell the tale. Everything was possible.

Lived to tell the tale…

His eyes widened. He gasped. "He's dead, isn't he?" he whispered, suddenly remembering the attack of the vord Queen. "She cut his head off…"

Aria nodded sadly, rose and went to his side. Her hand covered his. At the back of his mind, he noted that all the time since his awakening, she had not touched Sandos. Probably been warned against it until he got better. But she was so exhausted, and overwhelmed, and happy, and sad. She needed to touch someone, it seemed, to reassure herself that it was real, that they had escaped the worst in the last moment.

It was so strange. He had always thought he and Phrygia would both go out fighting. Of course, his old friend _had_ died fighting but not the Icemen. He was no more. Gone were his swordsmanship, his wry humour, his devotion.

Always the tactician, Raucus considered the new situation. An arm, a leg, and a life. That was, in fact, not too high a price for the survival of the world. Not when placed against the millions who had died.

Yet, the leg was his son's and the life was one of his oldest friends'. And that made all the difference. He closed his eyes and squeezed Aria's fingers, and was surprised at the sudden warmth when a rare tear slowly made its way down his stubbled cheek.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Codex Alera belongs to Jim Butcher._

**Thanks to TheLady Unicorn and roseflorintine for their kind reviews.**

_Cold as Ice_

**Chapter 3**

The next few days passed in a blur. He didn't remember them flowing. All he had were images that he would carry for a long time, he knew – bright, blinding, and so infuriatingly disconnected. Strong arms that guided him back after he seemingly had tried – and managed – to leave his bed and reached as far as the entrance of the tent – or maybe even the outside. A young Marat woman staring at him with mild curiosity, Septimus – no, Octavian – at her side. The black vial he had fast learn to hate, for it contained the vilest potion ever, and they were so fond of pouring it into him. A young man he did and didn't know – great furies, it was Maximus – looking down at him, his expression a mix of feelings that Raucus had trouble deciphering. Dorotea, crows take her, bathing his stump with another foul smelling potion. Sandos staring at him silently from the other cot. A legion healer, frowning in concentration. Aria, leaning over his cot. And the pain. The pain was like a living creature, biting, whirling around, assaulting him in despair. He had never known such a pain.

He had never felt so helpless.

Then, one day, he opened his eyes and everything seemed so clear, the light so brilliant. He tried to sit up but he can't, not yet. The fact that he forgot and tried to use the arm that was no longer there did not help either.

He must have made a sound, for Aria immediately jumped up from her seat at Sandos' side and went to him. Her hand touched his forehead and she smiled hesitantly. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

He scowled. "As if an Iceman demolished the Wall… all over me. What happened?"

She sighed. She looked better than she did in the images he had retained. Less haunted. Anyway, she still looked far too exhausted for his liking. The dark circles around her eyes were especially telling. "You don't remember? Anything?"

He frowned and tried to get his mind to focus. "I remember my arm is no longer," he said. "And I remember Dorotea – was this part for real?" he asked with sudden hope. It had to be false. Aria had obviously assumed the charge of him, as well as Sandos. There was no way she'd leave the bitch near him when he was so bloody helpless.

"You had a fever," she said. "One that kept coming back. You've been here for five days. Don't you remember? A few times, you came back to consciousness. Your mind was clear enough to try to get up, quarrel, give orders and make a nuisance out of yourself. We were just about to rejoice that you were finally fine, and the fever came back."

He blinked. "Really? I don't remember anything of that."

Aria helped him drink. "Don't move," she said.

"Really," Sandos spoke from his cot. He, too, looked slightly better than he did in Raucus' flashes of memory. "I, for one, told you about four times what happened. You really don't remember?"

"No," Raucus sighed. "Would someone mind telling me again how we ended up here?"

So they did, and this time he knew he wouldn't forget, and he didn't. But he almost wished he could. So much would change.

Next time he woke up, Aria was no longer there. Sandos was sleeping. And Placidus Garius went at Raucus' side as soon as he realized that the High Lord was awake. "How are you feeling, my lord? Do you need something?"

Raucus shook his head faintly against the pillow. "Where is your mother?"

"I sent her to rest for a while," the young Tribune replied. "She didn't want to but she really needed it. The First Lady took her in. I told her you and my father will lack for nothing."

"Good," Raucus snorted. "Woman never knew her own limits, I say. She'd stay here watching over us until she collapsed right across Sandos."

Garius said nothing but a flicker in his eye showed that he was thinking along similar lines. Well, he should. He had taken the matter in his own hands, after all. Raucus turned at his right for the water Aria was sure to have left there. Garius watched him, ready to assist should need arise but it did not come to this. As weak as he was, Raucus felt better. He was certainly up to the task to lift a flagon of water. He looked at Garius over the edge. It felt so good to see him here – one of the legionares serving under him whom he had not failed. He had buried so many of these boys. It was nice to see that he had not been doing _everything_ wrong.

"Do you know anything about my sons?" he asked, already sure what the answer would be. From what he had heard at the Wall, both boys had earned quite a reputation for themselves. Everyone around would have heard about whatever happened to them. Besides, Garius was Aria and Sandos' son. He tended to keep himself informed about just anything. That was one of the reasons that would someday make him an excellent commander – nothing was unimportant enough to pass beyond his notice.

Garius did not disappoint. "They did cause quite a scene just today," he said. "Along with the First Lord."

Of course the bloody First Lord would be bloody involved! It would be simply too nice not to. Gaius, the old bastard, had played his cards well. Maximus was firmly in Octavian's camp and, Raucus suspected, so was Crassus. Infuriating!

"So, what happened?" he asked, and Garius shrugged.

"Well, the First Lord obviously decided to visit Antillus Crassus in his healing tent… and he obviously did not take it well. I passed by the tent myself and heard them arguing."

Raucus grinned in delight despite the pain in his stump. "What were they arguing about?"

Garius shrugged again. "I have no idea, my lord. But your son obviously did not enjoy the First Lord's company and told him so in no uncertain terms."

Raucus snorted out a laugh. There was still hope. It was bad enough to have one son so besotted with Octavian. It was good to know that he did not have _two_ of them. And in truth, he liked the idea of the First Lord having his wings clipped. On principle. Great furies knew that such a thing would have done Sextus a lot of good, too. "So he was furious?" he asked curiously. "Or did he freeze poor Octavian to bits without windcrafting?"

Garius shook his head and looked at his father's cot to make sure that everything was fine on this front. "No, your first guess was closer to the mark. Antillus Crassus was so enraged that he was shouting at the First Lord in a way that was…" His voice trailed off.

Raucus blinked. Shouted? _Shouted?_ What could have Octavian, crows take him, possibly done to elicit such a reaction from Crassus, of all people? Had it been Max, he would not have even given it a second thought. Crassus, though… Raucus had never heard the boy raise his voice when angry. He usually took the offender down with just a few icy remarks – a trait that Raucus found highly obnoxious. Had Octavian killed someone Crassus held dear, or perhaps bedded a woman Crassus had also taken a fancy to?

Bloody weakness! He'd have to wait for furies know how long before he could find out what was going on.

"What did he say?" he asked.

Garius actually smiled at that. "Well, he said something like, "Get off me, Octavian, or I'll throw you out." The smile suddenly vanished. He looked at Raucus uncertainly but finally decides to relay the rest of Crassus' words to him. "Or at least, I'll make Max do it for me," he finished softly. He hesitated whether he should say that he was sorry. He was. By now, everyone knew that Antillus Crassus was as helpless as a babe, too hurt to move, in too much pain to summon his furies, with too small a chance to ever walk again. As tough as the High Lord Antillus was, Garius knew he cared. He had seen his grief and torment over the thousands that had fallen at the Wall. Antillus Raucus was sure to care now when it was his own son who had fallen, albeit not dead.

But he _was_ the High Lord Antillus. He didn't need anyone's sympathy, except for maybe Garius' parents. Not for the loss of his arm. Not for the torment of his son. And besides, he was already far away, staring right through Garius at something that only he could see.

This night, he had a dream and it was nothing like the nightmares that had plagued him for years – the same ones that he _lived_, every day at the Wall. He was in Antillus, at the lakeside, in one of the very few instances he could steal a few hours away from his duties. It was high summer, and Max was chatting animatedly to him about his latest exploits with his outrageous friends, among which he seemed to be the most outrageous one. Naturally! How old was the boy? Eight, maybe nine. Precocious, full of life, and still admiring his father. Raucus listened to him with amusement and at the same time kept a look at the lake where Crassus was swimming out. He swam as easily as a fish. Anything related to movement he did gracefully. He had showed Kalarus' elegance even as a toddler. The skyline had long fascinated him and he kept on trying to reach it by swimming and became enraged by Raucus' fits of laughter that his obsessive idea never failed to produce. And since he didn't give up, finally Raucus just let him be and kept an eye on him, commanding his waterfuries to bring the whelp ashore when Crassus was about to swim out of his view. But this time, weather was bad, the lake was coming high and Raucus took him out way too early.

"Cold, eh?" he asked, trying to sound serious at the look of longing Crassus was giving the skyline. Surely even a child this young should have understood by now that he wouldn't reach it no matter what he did.

"Not c-c-cold," Crassus said. "N-not cold at all."

He would have sounded more convincing had he not been shaking. The moment Raucus turned his back at him, he tried to go back but Max, wiser than his father, caught him just on time. Crassus looked at him with anger but then Max leaned against his ear and whispered something that made Crassus giggle, his bad mood forgotten. A moment later, Max laughed too.

Raucus woke with a start. It was dark in the tent, it was probably in the pitch of the night. A single furylamp made a brave attempt to tear the veil of black and in its light, he made out Aria's face: she was sleeping peacefully in her chair, her head on Sandos' cot, a few locks of red hair spread on the cover. Sandos was sleeping soundly, too. Raucus closed his eyes, willing the dream to come back but it didn't. Still, he felt far more relaxed than when he had fallen asleep. He had forgotten that in his past, it had not been all bad. He had forgotten that sometimes, he had been happy.

"_I'll make Max do it for me."_ It was a good thing that Max would do something for Crassus. It was a good thing that Crassus felt sure he would. Still, Raucus would rather have Max do something _else_ for Crassus. Something that Crassus could do himself if he chose to.

Of course, it was just temporary. It had to be. Even Dorotea was wrong about that. Raucus could feel it. Crassus _would_ walk again. Sure, they all said the chance was slim but what of that? Finally, Crassus _had_ realized that there was no chance he'd ever reach the skyline. But had he thrown a tantrum? Had he wept with disappointment?

No. He just had just gone and tried again.


End file.
